We Must Be New Beginnings
by SherlockedAngelofHyrule
Summary: Prequel one-shot for my story "We Must Be Killers." Between Trish harping on her wanting to be a hero, bar hopping, and having no cases, Jessica Jones never exactly expected to be stalked by an expensive dressed sociopath. Nor, did she exactly plan on falling in love with him, either. Besides, the hero gig never suited her anyways. AU


_**AN:** Hey guys, I'm not dead. Anyways, super sorry this took so long to get out. I've been slammed with schoolwork and simply haven't had time to write or anything._

 _Anyways, for those of you who have not read "We Must Be Killers", then I recommend that you do read that first. Or don't, there's not exactly any spoilers in this for that fic, but for context, I recommend you read it._

 _If you are coming from that fic, then I hope you enjoy this little one-off fic prequel for that story. I have a bit more written for this, if you guys should want more little one offs set before where my AU takes place, then do tell me, though I can't guarantee that I will do so unless it's popular demand_ _._

 _Rated M for references of sex and Kilgrave being an asshole._

* * *

Kilgrave is not one to visit bars, in fact, he avoids them most of the time. They're loud, stuffy and hot. The lights are too bright, or its too dark to see anything and he ends up getting something spilt on him. It's not that he feels uncomfortable, it's that he doesn't want to wrinkle or stain his clothes. And okay, maybe it is because they're crowded, smell like shit, and are full of drunken idiots. The smell of liquor and sweat assaults his nose, making it wrinkle slightly as he weaves his way through the crowd of able bodies.

What was he doing here again?

Right. It'd been a good week since his last actual good fuck, and honestly, he needed something different. Something new. Life certainly tended to get dull when people waited on you hand and foot, regardless of what he said about it. He wasn't complaining though, because his life could be worse. His lips twitch, a small grimace cutting across his face as one woman moves to touch his arm, a flirty smile curling at her lips.

No. She certainly won't do.

"Don't touch me." It's out of habit that he spits the words out. A venomous snarl in his tone as he slips the words out without a pause. The woman retracts instantly, her green eyes wide with surprise. "Now, go put an empty bottle of beer into your hands for touching me. And do it quietly, don't draw attention to yourself!" He stresses the last sentence through his teeth, and the woman hurries off to do as he orders. A smile curls at his lips, and he continues his way to the bar with the resolve of getting a glass of fine wine.

Sliding onto the barstool, he whistles the waiter over along with a sharp 'come here!' The man fumbles to comply, wiping down the counter as he glances at him.

"What can I get you, sir?"

Kilgrave thinks for a second, deliberately wasting time to annoy those around him. Because he knows what he wants, of course he does. A charming grin curls his lips, and he leans forward to look at him.

"Get me a bottle of your most expensive, fanciest wine, now, for free." He implores smoothly, his British accent smoothing his tone so that it comes out like fine silk. The man hurries off, ignoring the protests of the other patrons. Kilgrave shifts on the bar stool, already uncomfortable in the hard cushioned seat. What was the point of cushions if they were this uncomfortable?

While he waits, he scans the bar, his hands resting on the flat surface of polished wooden counter. Should he go for a blonde this time? No. To dull for his taste tonight. He wants something new and exciting. Maybe a red head. They were hard to find though, and from the looks of it, there were none in sight. He sighs in impatience, drumming his fingers along the counter as the man arrives back with his bottle. He doesn't give any gratitude, and simply takes the bottle with a swipe of his hand and orders the bartender to leave his sight.

Pouring a glass for himself, he swirls it in his hand, still scanning the area. Taking a hearty gulp of the fine wine, he swallows just as a woman, dressed in leather and ripped jeans, with somewhat long black hair falling just passed her shoulders, slides up to sit a few seats away from him. He's not sure what drags his gaze to her, what makes him notice her, but he does. She's a beauty, despite her unflattering wardrobe choices, all dark hair and pale skin that glows in bar lights. He stares at her as she orders what Kilgrave assumes is a strong whiskey. As the bartender passes him, he raises a hand, pointing down to the woman.

"Give her whatever she wants for free. Tell her it's on me." He orders, wanting to try a different tactic instead of outright ordering the woman to fuck him. Sure, it'll eventually come to that, once he goes up to her, but maybe he can try out the typical bloke style first. Warm her up a bit. He's not sure what's different this time, but he can feel something different about her. He turns back to her, watching as a flicker of surprise floods her features before she turns and glances down the bar. Kilgrave smirks, raising his wine glass to her with a slight nod, earning a grin in reply and a wave of the glass in her hand.

He watches her for a moment, slowly finishing up his glass of wine before pouring another and standing. Now seems like as good as time as ever. She doesn't seem like the type who would vanish to go dance on the floor though, because she's just sitting there, drinking quite a lot of whiskey, turning down whoever comes up to her. He brushes pass the other people, trying hard not to mess up his clothes. It took the dry cleaner one to many times to get it right, and she'd already lost one hand because of it.

Kilgrave didn't fancy finding a new dry cleaner.

Sliding into the now empty seat beside her-no, that wasn't his doing, the guy just really had to take a piss-he sets his glass on the table, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He draws in a sharp breath, his thumb rubbing against the rim of his glass as she turns to face him. Her brown eyes spark with faint drunkenness, but she's still very coherent, judging by the wary gleam in her eyes. Considering the amount of whiskey she's tossed back, it's impressive. A smile curls at his lips, a flirty one that shows the whites of his teeth against the lights of the bar. That defensive gleam won't be there much longer.

"You want to come home with me." He says, his tone a husky order, low and seductive. He wants her all to himself, this beautiful woman. He watches as her face twitches, a look of slight disgust and the wary gleam turns into annoyance.

"Fuck off. Here I thought you were actually trying to be a gentleman." Her tone is sharp, like a knife being buried deep into his chest, gutting him. He's surprised by how much it hurts. He's not use to being rejected. This completely new to him. "Turns out you're like the rest of the assholes in the world." Kilgrave gaps at her bland rejection as she turns to down another glass of whiskey. Anger burns at his chest, making his skin hot and his teeth grind against each other in frustration and shock as it sinks in that she blandly ignored his order.

Maybe it didn't work because he hadn't used his powers. Granted, he doubted this was the case. Wishful thinking, he supposes.

"Look at me." He hisses out to her, his breath sliding between clenched teeth with thinly control rage. He watches her eyes roll, but she doesn't look at him, not directly, not like he asked. His fingers tighten around the glass, and he's about to say something, order her to do something else, dance on the counter top or something stupid, something that will embarrass her like she just has done to him, but she slams the whiskey glass against the counter with a bit of too much force, causing the counter to dent.

Everybody around them stops. Kilgrave stares, and the woman-in all her strength, despite her thin body-grabs his collar with a sharp twist of a hand.

"I came here, to drink, not get hit on by some rich asshole who thinks he can just get whatever the fuck he wants with a few words." Her voice is venomous, a low, harsh sound that actually kind of turns him on. It's hot, the rage in her eyes, and the way her lips pull into a sneer is distracting.

Fuck, she's a goddess.

Regardless of the fact that he's currently trying not to choke, gasping for breath against his deep purple and black tie blocking his airway, his fingers scrambling around her surprisingly strong grip, trying to loosen it, he's so fucking turned on right now. He always had a bit of a complex, maybe his ego has gotten to big, and the thought of being dominated by this woman is fucking sexy.

He gulps slightly before he can go any further with that thought.

She tosses him back, and Kilgrave sniffs, fumbling to catching himself on the counter in a less graceful way then he had planned, adjusting his tie as security comes up to them.

"Is there a problem here?" One guy grunts, he's big and burly, and could probably snap them both in half. The other guy is smaller, and not near as muscular. Tall and lanky, not unlike Kilgrave himself. He clears his throat, and before the woman next to him can speak, he slips out a smooth order without missing a beat.

"No, there's no problem here, go away." He waves the men off, and they parade off at the twitch of his tongue without argument. He can feel the woman's eyes fix on him, the slight part in her lips and fuck, he can only think about kissing them, what they'd be like to be wrapped around-

Wait, she's speaking.

"What did you just do?!" There's a mix of surprise and shock in her tone, her eyes flicking from him to the direction of the guards. Kilgrave shrugs slightly.

"I could ask the same of you." He points out without missing a beat, pointing a finger towards the dent in the counter. The woman has the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but not apologetic.

"Just a thing." She mutters after a pause, raising her glass to her lips.

"Mhmm, and what sort of thing would that be? Tell me the truth." He implores, and he doesn't miss the annoyance flickering in her eyes as she glances at him.

"A thing. That's all it is." Kilgrave's brows raise, now fully aware that he can't control this person. How interesting. It certainly makes him desire her more. "What I want to know," her curious tone has him suspicious, and he watches her quietly. "Is how you did that." She gestures with the glass in her hand towards the direction the guards headed off to. Kilgrave shrugs, a smirk curling his lips.

"A thing." He shoots back smoothly, turning to face her. "Just a thing." She snorts into her cup, a bubble of laughter escaping from her lips. Kilgrave smiles at the sound, his tongue touching his teeth at the fact that he didn't have to tell this person to laugh, but that she did it of her own free will.

"What sort of thing?" She mocks, and Kilgrave shrugs again.

"Just a thing." He answers back in the same mocking tone. She chuckles again, a grin curling the corners of her lips. Kilgrave feels warm as he takes another gulp of his wine.

"You're still an asshole." She says after a beat. "I'm still not having sex with you. Voodoo magic or not."

"It's not voodoo." Kilgrave grumbles in annoyance, shifting from where he sits, finishing his glass of wine.

"Well, whatever it is, doesn't seem to work on me." The woman notes, tilting her head. "Why is that? Am I the first person who's been immune to your voodoo? Clearly, you're used to getting whatever you want. You're use to people dropping what they're doing to cater to your whims." Kilgrave's eyebrows raise, surprised, because she guessed right. He shrugs slightly.

"What are you, some sort of detective?" He deflects flippantly, a snide undertone in his voice, because she should really quit before she pisses him off.

"Private Investigator, actually. Just a woman trying to make a living in this city." She corrects sharply as if there's a difference, and Kilgrave scowls slightly, defensive. He doesn't dignify that with reply, because doing so would mean she's right. The conversation dies down, and this the moment where Kilgrave would, normally, convince her to go shag in the best hotel room in the city.

It looks like he's not getting laid tonight.

He glances at her, simply watching out of the corner of his eye as she stands, sliding off the bar stool. "Well, I hope you find some other poor woman to seduce, I need to go." Kilgrave opens his mouth to speak, her tone is curt and short. Straight to the point. Nothing comes out of his mouth, and she's walking off before he can think of something say, lost in the sea of bodies.

Kilgrave slumps slightly, staring at his glass with a look of annoyance and irritation. He's intrigued by her, and he let her simply slip away from him like water through his fingers.

Damn it. He didn't even get her name.

* * *

Jessica Jones was, in all honesty, fucking bored, and hungover, but she could deal with that.

What she couldn't deal with, was the fucking shouting going on above her. She had just moved in maybe a week ago, and fuck she might as well move back in with Trish.

No, actually, that doesn't sound much better. Trish would harp on her to 'go be a hero!' or 'Jess you could save the world!'

Fuck that. If Trish wants to be a goddamn hero so much, then let her be one. Jessica would sooner become the villain then be some bullshit freak in tights and a cape. At least villains had fun and didn't have worry about the moral high ground, or something like that.

She pushes a sigh between her lips, dragging herself from her chair and stomping to the kitchen to get a bottle of whiskey. She scowls, her eyes glaring at the empty, dusty cabinets.

Well fuck.

Jessica sighs in irritation, slamming the cabinets shut and finally, the shouting gets to be too much. Her temples throb sharply due to a headache slowly growing worst as the shouting continues to persist. She glares up at the ceiling, her brown eyes burning with anger.

"Shut the fuck up!" She shouts with thinly controlled annoyance. The shouting dies down after a brief pause, and she exhales, rubbing her head before glancing at the clock on her phone.

Well, best get to the small store down the street before the drunks start stumbling along the streets. She shoves her phone into her pocket, shrugging on her jacket before starting out, nearly bumping to her neighbor-whatever the fuck his name is-on the way out.

"Ah, sorry. I was just, well-"

"I really don't care." Jessica sniffs in annoyance, stepping passed him. "It's fine." She adds after a pause, glancing at him. His eyes widen a bit, as if he wasn't expecting an apology. Not that was one, mind you.

"Ah, right. I'm Malcolm, by the way." He says, awkward and shifting on his feet. Jessica scowls a bit, before she shrugs.

"Jessica Jones." She mutters in reply, and she catches Malcolm smiling just a bit before she walks off, pressing her finger against the elevator button, shifting as she waits for the elevator.

Once it finally arrives, she steps into the small area, leaning against the wall after shoving her thumb against the down button for the first floor. She's not sure what she thinks of her new place yet. It's small, but she likes it. At least, she likes it enough to not move again, despite the fucking loud neighbors.

It doesn't take her long to walk to the small store, pulling out a wad of bills and ruffling through them. Just barely enough this week, good. She really needed to find some cases, soon, unless she ends up back at Trish's. Damn it, she didn't want to bother her friend. Jessica was a shit person to live with, which was why she moved out. To get some space.

And maybe the hero thing had gotten on her nerves, but she'd never tell Trish that.

Quietly, Jessica slides up to the counter, tossing the bills onto the table. "Your cheapest whiskey and a pack of cigarettes." She mutters, knowing Trish would hate that she went back to smoking after she tried so hard to quit. She needed something other than whiskey though. At least she wasn't doing crack, right? She could be addicted to worst.

Well, it's not like cigarettes are any better.

Grabbing the bottle by the neck, she shoves the pack of cigarettes into her pocket, stepping out. It's fairly warm out tonight, though there's a chill in the May air. With summer time around the corner, Jessica is actually looking forward to it. Warmer weather, which means the draft in her apartment won't be as bad.

Fumbling with the cigarette pack, she shoves the bottle into her pocket, and quietly pulls out a cigarette. Placing it between her lips, she lights it quickly, taking a long drag with a small sigh of contentment. Turning on her heel, she starts down the sidewalk. She actually enjoys a late night stroll, there's something calming about it. Normally, her walks are uninterrupted, because she gives off the 'don't fuck with me' vibe. Of course, there are those few drunken idiots who don't know that.

"Heeey, babe. You lookin' fi-ne t'night." Jessica pauses, cigarette dangling between her index and middle finger, looking unimpressed with what he thinks is flirting. He's short, with greasy black hair and beady brown eyes. Not exactly attractive, if Jessica was honest. Not that she was considering doing anything with him. Unless it involved her fist against his nose, several times. "What'd'ya say you come 'ome wit' me?"

"Keep dreaming, moron." She mutters in reply, a sarcastic tone dripping from her tone as she takes the cigarette from her mouth. "Go home, sleep it off." She advises, but clearly, he's not having any of it. It wouldn't be the first time someone's pulled a knife on her. Nor will it probably be the last.

Her eyes flicker down to the glint of the blade, and the man's face twitches in anger. "Let's not do anything-" Jessica starts, but cuts off as she staggers back to avoid the sharp weapon. She drops her cigarette, balling her hands into fists. She tries to throw a punch, but Mr. Drunk-Off-His-Ass is stumbling too much for her to really get a good hit in. Really, she wouldn't be surprised if he ended up stabbing himself. Or worst, her.

She's back against a wall, which is pretty unfortunate, and she braces herself for the man stab her, or try to, when a familiar voice speaks out further down the alley.

"Stop!" A British lilt breaks the still night air, and Jessica glances up towards the speaker. Mr. Drunk-Off-His-Ass has frozen in his spot, and the man who uttered the command walks over, his face is dark, a frown marring his face. "What were you going to do to her?" He demands in a sharp voice, clearly not in the mood for games.

"I-I was, just... Tryin' t'... get 'er t' come 'ome wit' me." He stammers out, his voice slurred and heavy. There's a dark rage in the man's eyes, which grows even darker at this. "I was, g'nna sh'w 'er a good time." A grin curls on Drunk man's face, and Jessica glances towards her 'savior', curious to what he'll do.

"Walk away, and keep walking, and don't stop for anything." He barks, and Jessica shifts slightly, watching the man lumber off on unsteady feet. She turns to the man, who looks quite pleased with himself.

"You probably just killed him." She says, not sure what else to say in the situation. Maybe if she was a hero, he'd be the villain. Maybe she should be throwing punches at him, but she doesn't, because she's not a hero. The man shrugs his shoulders, as if he could care less. "Are you stalking me?" The thought had just popped into her head, because this is a weird coincidence.

"What? No. I just... Was walking down the street and saw that you were in trouble." His tone with defensive, but Jessica isn't exactly convinced. She folds her arms over her chest, staring at him with a disbelieving raise of an eyebrow.

"Right. Pretty weird coincidence." She scowls, her brows knitting together. The man shrugs, frowning innocently.

"Maybe we're destined to be together." He quips with a smirk. Jessica laughs slightly, a sharp, barking sound and she grins.

"I knew you were delusional, but that's just sad." She shoots back, and man looks offended.

"So you don't believe in destiny?" He inquiries, raising a hand to touch her cheek. She doesn't flinch away, or move to really stop him. He can't hurt her, he could try, sure, but she'd break his neck if he tried.

She'd probably have a bit of guilt for doing it, but not much.

"I don't know what to believe, truthfully. But if destiny does exist..." She utters softly, her voice trailing and leaving her statement open, meeting his brown gaze. They're dark, filled with a mixture of emotions. A grin curls at his lips and pulls back, his movement elegant and smooth, offering a hand to her.

"You like Chinese." He says, and Jessica breathes out softly, a laugh escaping her lips as she unfolds his arms.

"Not typically, no." She says confidently, watching a frown curl at his lips. He looks annoyed as his hand drops to his side, and Jessica grins. It surprising how quick she's gotten at being able to read him. She knows that he's use to having power over everyone. He's got that cocky, superior attitude. "But Chinese is fine. As long as you're paying." She adds, and he gaps slightly as she passes him, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She glances at him, waiting for him to follow.

"I never have to pay for anything." He says hauntingly with superior tilt of his head, and Jessica blinks for a moment before it clicks in her head.

"Right, your voodoo powers." She says, and her scowls at her, his lips pulling downward, his brows furrowing.

"They're not voodoo powers." He huffs, feeling defensive.

"Then what are they?" She tips her head, staring at him and studying his expression. He seems uneasy, shifting his weight as they trudge down the sidewalk. His hands move into his pockets, and he shrugs.

"Mind control?" He tries, and Jessica laughs a bit.

"Right, because mind control exists. I forgot." She jests sarcastically. A flicker of annoyance passes across his face, but he quickly soothes it down.

"Well what else do you call me being able to get people to do whatever I want?" He gripes, and Jessica shrugs, a teasing grin curling across her lips.

"Voodoo?" She suggests, and his eyes roll as a groan escapes his lips.

"Alright then, what about you?" He asks sharply, and Jessica shrugs.

"Super strength and guided falling." She answers casually. She watches his brows furrow, a curious look on his face. "I can fly, kind of. It's more like jumping and falling. I'm not very good at it." She watches as he nods his head slowly, processing the information.

"Interesting." It's all he says, and Jessica has to be mildly surprised. Normally, people ask how it happened, or run in fear-the latter being most likely. This is different though, because she gets a sense that he understands, in some way.

"So, voodoo man," she starts, ignoring how his nose wrinkles at the nickname. "Do you have an actual name, or am I just going to call you voodoo man?" She finishes, ignoring his stormy glare.

"Kilgrave." He mutters in a flat tone, but a slight smile curls his lips upward. Jessica pauses, studying him, her fingers curling around the forgotten cigarette box, careful not to crush it.

"How obvious, was 'Murdercorpse' already taken?" She mocks, and he scowls back at her. "Jessica, Jessica Jones." She adds after a pause. She watches as Kilgrave nods his head slightly.

"Jessica Jones." He tries out, rolling her name off his tongue smoothly, and a small shiver curls down her spine at the way he says her name. She doesn't know if it's good or not, but she likes how he says it. Clearly her reaction didn't go unnoticed, because a grin curls his lips, his white teeth flashing in the streetlights. "No, ah, superhero name?" He questions, and Jessica shrugs.

"Never said I was a hero." She corrects with a faint grin.

"No super villain name then?" He corrects himself with a wide grin.

"Now who said I was a super villain?" She asks, stopping in her walk to look at him. He steps closer, a smirk on his lips.

"Well, you're not a superhero, and you're not a super villain, then what are you, Jessica Jones?" He inquiries, looking her up and down with an appeasing gleam in his brown eyes.

"Maybe you'll have to find out." She whispers, a somewhat flirty smile curling at her mouth.

"Are you flirting with me, we have only just met, surely you're not scared that I'll... hurt you?" He asks, bending so that they're noses just barely touch. He's confident, even without his powers, he still is maddeningly cocky in the way he speaks.

"I don't flirt; I just say what I want." She smiles slyly, her teeth flashing as she reaches up to touch his chest. "And you can't hurt me, you should be more afraid of me."

"Now that sounded a lot like flirting." Kilgrave huffs softly, and Jessica grins, her head tilting just enough so that they're almost kissing, before she pulls back sharply, leaving him dumbfounded and staring at her.

Jessica turns abruptly before he can pull her back, shoving the door open to the Chinese place, knowing that he's following close behind. Before she can speak, Kilgrave slips an arm around her waist, his smooth voice directing to the waiter.

"Give us your nicest table, with a window view." His tone a quick, yet not exactly as venomous as it could be. She glances at him, not pulling away out of his grip, and lets him lead her to the table, pulling out her chair and sitting down, before pushing her in.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are a gentleman." She quips as he slides into the seat across from her. He shoots her a look, but doesn't speak, and Jessica leans her elbows against the table as Kilgrave turns to the server, quickly ordering them drinks and food. Jessica doesn't mind him doing so, after all, she's not a picky eater.

And he ordered a pretty expensive wine. Truly a luxury that she doesn't get often.

She watches as he pours them a glass each letting her mind run over the last forty-eight hours. He's interesting, clearly someone most would scream for her get away from. Jessica doesn't though, she finds him the gateway to a different world. She watches as he takes his own glass and holding it to her for a toast.

"To new beginnings?" He suggests with a surprisingly pleasant smile, though there's something dark behind it. Something that just screams that he wreaks havoc on the world without a care. Maybe Jessica should care, maybe she should care on what he does in his spare time. He has a cocky way about him, arrogant, and he's someone that takes everything from somebody, but doesn't give anything back. In all honesty, if she thinks about it, maybe associating with him won't be so bad. Her eyes study his face, the dark gleam in his eyes, the clear look of a true sociopath.

It takes a few seconds, a few deliberately long seconds to prove to him that he has no control over her, just because she likes the power it gives her, before she grabs her glass. Jessica smiles back after several heartbeats, clicking her glass against his before taking a sip.

"To new beginnings."

* * *

 _ **AN:** Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this little taste of how Jessica and Kilgrave met in my AU verse. I, honestly, don't have an sort of idea on when We Must Be Killers will be updated, as I've been busy with life and school work. I'm hoping later this week or next week, but I guess we'll see._

 _In the mean time, have a nice day and don't forget to leave a review!_


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